


keep you like an oath

by petals



Category: One Direction (Band), Zayn Malik (Musician)
Genre: Alternate Universe, American AU, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Mentions of Liam/Sophia - Freeform, Mentions of Perrie/OMC, Past Perrie Edwards/Zayn Malik, Sexual Content, Strangers to Lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-29
Updated: 2015-05-29
Packaged: 2018-03-25 09:19:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3805063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/petals/pseuds/petals
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Zayn doesn’t recognize the man through the peephole, but he looks harmless enough, so Zayn swings the door open, barely able to get out a greeting before, </p><p>“Hello, would you be interested in being my boyfriend?” The stranger asks. </p><p>“Uh,” Zayn mumbles, looking between the man and the space behind him, waiting for someone to jump out at him and tell him what’s going on. No one does. And the stranger is still grinning at him, blue eyes shining and teeth on full display as he waits. “Who are you?” Zayn finally asks, when the stranger makes no move to give him more information about what’s happening.</p>
            </blockquote>





	keep you like an oath

**Author's Note:**

  * For [elliebird](https://archiveofourown.org/users/elliebird/gifts).



> Written for the prompt that asked for Louis and Zayn pretending to date. You asked for canon, but this au, sorry!!!!! Canon is kind of a touchy subject for me, and getting this prompt after Zayn left made it harder to write. I hope you still like what I came up with!
> 
> Thank you to my lovely J for helping me with the beta, all remaining mistakes are my own. Don't know them, don't own them, and please don't put this on any other site!

Zayn has to use his shoulder to get the door open to his apartment. It’s a quirk. You have to rattle the key, turn the knob and slam into it at just the right angle to get it open, so naturally he stumbles into his apartment, his mail falling down to the floor in an almost elegant sort of paper rain.

He groans as he kicks the door shut, throwing his keys down on the table before he bends down to clean it all up. It’s mostly junk mail, along with his cable bill, and a white envelop with an elegant script addressing him, Mr. Zayn Malik. He stares at it, thumbing over the return address. Zayn doesn’t recognize it, so he rips the envelope open, standing up slowly.

_Perrie Louise Edwards_

_and_

_Quentin Michael Barlow_

_request the honor of your presence at the celebration of their union_

Oh, Zayn thinks, staring down at the golden trim of the white card. A wedding. Perrie’s wedding. That’s—it’s not expected. Zayn didn’t even know she was seeing anyone. He remembers someone named Miles and Xavier, but Quentin is new. And that’s fine—like, Zayn doesn’t care that she’s getting married.

Good for her.

When they broke up nearly two years ago, things had ended amicably, the two coming out of it as friends. So he doesn’t care that she’s found someone else and she’s ready to settle down and live her life with someone. It’s just…odd.

Two years ago this was Zayn, picking out wedding invites and venues and cakes and flowers and honeymoon locations. That was him, planning a wedding that never happened. Of course he never got this far, but in two years Perrie has moved on completely, sending him an invitation to RSVP to with a note that allows him a plus one, if he needs it.

Which is totally just a reminder that he’s single. That in the two years since their break up he hasn’t wanted to settle down again.

But good for her, if that’s what she wants, even if it does feel too soon.

Two years and it’s almost like she’s forgotten about it.

Zayn doesn’t care. It’s just odd, in so many ways. Two years ago this would have been him, it would have been his name under hers inviting people to watch them exchange vows. Luckily it’s not at the same location, so Zayn feels a bit better knowing she’s not trying to have their wedding still.

As Zayn stares down at the invite, he starts to get flashes of what his life could have been, of where he could have gone with it. He’d still be with Perrie, he thinks. He would have hoped they would have made it, but it’s not likely. Maybe this wedding will be the one, maybe this time she’ll make it down the aisle and get that promise of forever.

But as for Zayn, he needs a drink. A few drinks.

>>>>

Niall’s the very best friend in the world, Zayn thinks, as he watches Niall set down an entire tray full of shots. A tray just for them. A tray filled with pink and blue and clear and orange liquids in tiny little glasses. It’s wonderful.

“Alright, you think this is going to be enough for you?” Niall asks, taking his own seat as he starts to divide the shots. “You said you needed to get drunk, and I think this will help.”

“You’re a god,” Zayn tells him, picking up an orange one and draining it quickly. It’s good, even if it burns going down, he thinks, setting the empty shot glass back on the tray.

“Yeah, remember that when you call me tomorrow whining about how we’re never drinking again,” Niall mumbles, raising his own glass in a toast before he downs it in one go.

“Nope, not gonna happen this time.”

“Yeah? And why is that?”

Zayn breathes out a sigh, picking up another shot. He needs something in his system. “Perrie’s getting married, got my invite in the mail.”

Niall nods, taking the empty shot glass from Zayn. “Yeah, got mine two days ago.”

Zayn blinks, turning to glare at Niall. “You knew?”

“Course I did. I mean, I knew once I got the invite but I didn’t before. I thought you had gotten it the same day I did.”

“No, I just got it today.”

Niall nods, staring down at the shots for a second. He’s thinking, Zayn can tell. It makes him nervous, so he takes another shot, hoping that Niall won’t make him wait much longer to find out what’s on his mind, what Niall thinks about Zayn wanting to get drinks after getting his ex-fiancées wedding invitation.

“So are you upset because she’s getting married, or are you upset about the fact you’re not with her anymore? Or is it something else, because I’m kind of confused on why you need to get drunk just because she’s getting married,” Niall says and Zayn rolls his eyes. Niall’s not a god. If he was then he wouldn’t be questioning this, wouldn’t just assume that something is wrong. He’d buy more shots and keep feeding them to Zayn.

But that’s not Niall. Niall’s a good friend. Sometimes Zayn really hates him for it.

“I don’t care about the wedding,” Zayn tells him, and it’s the truth. It’s really not about that at all. “It’s just kind of like, that could have been me. And I’ve just been thinking about what my life is now and what my life could have been, what it almost was.”

“And you freaked out.”

“Naturally.”

Niall laughs, shaking his head as he does another shot. “I don’t think you have anything to freak out about, which doesn’t mean it’ll stop you, but like, that’s not your life, man. That’s his life. He’s marrying her, not you.”

“Obviously I know that, it’s just weird to think about. I didn’t even know she was seeing anyone, it’s been ages since we last spoke, last saw each other and she’s sending me an invitation to her wedding?”

“Maybe she wants you to be happy for her.”

“I am happy for her,” Zayn protests, offended Niall would think he wasn’t.

“Well, if you’re happy for her then you’ll suck up your pride, you’ll call her mother and tell her that you’ll be there,” Niall says, chewing on his bottom lip as he thinks. Zayn watches him, his stomach twisting in anticipation because Niall has this look on his face, this—this look that tells Zayn he’s plotting. “Tell her you’ll need that plus one.”

“Why?” Zayn asks, confused. “I’m not seeing anyone. It’d just be a waste. They’d have to buy more food.”

“Yeah, but you’re not going to your ex’s wedding without a date. I won’t allow it.”

“Niall—“

“You’ll look like an idiot,” Niall says, voice loud, piercing through the air as he cuts Zayn off. “I know some people, don’t worry. I’ll find you someone, okay? Even if it’s just for that night, you’re not going alone.”

“Niall, I’ll be fine,” Zayn sighs, shaking his head. “Honestly, don’t worry about me.”

“Don’t worry, I’ve got your back, Zayn.”

“I don’t need a date.”

Niall shushes him, pressing a shot against his lips as he winks. There’s really no arguing this point, Niall’s going to find him a date and that’s going to be the end of it, even if Zayn really is going to be fine going to the wedding alone.

Besides, who knows what could happen in the next six weeks. Zayn could find someone on his own, or he could move across country and just not have the funds to make it to the wedding. Who knows. Only time will tell.

>>>>

Zayn’s sitting at his kitchen table, thanking the bacon grease gods for helping his hangover just a bit – not entirely, because there really is only so much turkey bacon can do for a man - when there’s a knock on his apartment door. He frowns at it, because no one ever knocks without ringing his buzzer first, letting him know that they’re here and want to come up. So he gets up slowly, taking his bacon sandwich with him, moving to answer the door.

Zayn doesn’t recognize the man through the peephole, but he looks harmless enough, so Zayn swings the door open, barely able to get out a greeting before,

“Hello, would you be interested in being my boyfriend?” The stranger asks.

“Uh,” Zayn mumbles, looking between the man and the space behind him, waiting for someone to jump out at him and tell him what’s going on. No one does. And the stranger is still grinning at him, blue eyes shining and teeth on full display as he waits. “Who are you?” Zayn finally asks, when the stranger makes no move to give him more information about what’s happening.

“Right, sorry. My name’s Louis, I live in the apartment above you. You are?”

Zayn nods, because now that he says who he is, Zayn thinks he’s seen him around the building, passing him on the stairs as he goes towards his own apartment or on his way out. “Yeah, you’re the loud one. And Zayn. My name’s Zayn.”

Louis laughs, nodding his head enthusiastically. “Yeah, sorry about that,” he says, releasing a deep breath as he shrugs, as if to say _what can you do?_ “So what do you think, would you like to be my boyfriend?”

“I don’t really know you,” Zayn mumbles, trying to sound sympathetic. It must have taken great courage for the guy to come down here and ask Zayn out, especially when they’ve never had a conversation before. It’s admirable, but that doesn’t change the fact that Zayn has no idea who he is.

“Yeah, right. Okay, I should explain,” Louis says, releasing a deep breath. “Basically last night I was out with my friends, they’re both—Well, it’s easy to feel inadequate around them, so I kind of made up a bunch of stories, really exaggerated how my life has been going since we last saw each other.”

“Okay, and what does that have to do with me?”

“Well, I saw you there. At the bar. And I remembered you lived in this building, so I thought I’d lie and say that I have a boyfriend. I’m not sure why you gave me that idea, but you did,” Louis explains, pausing to take another deep breath. “And they didn’t look like they were buying it, so I told them they could meet him. But like, the only problem is that I very much don’t have a boyfriend.”

“And that’s where I’d come in.”

“Yeah, you’d just have to pretend. For like a night. Just meet them and pretend to be smitten with me and talk about how wonderful I am and how much you love me, and just—you know, be completely in awe of me.”

“Right,” Zayn mumbles, leaning against the door. “You want to trick your friends.”

“Exactly,” Louis exclaims, nodding. “So what do you say, will you do it? Will you be my pretend boyfriend?”

Zayn wants to say no, because obviously there’s something wrong with this Louis guy. People don’t just show up at a stranger’s door and ask them to be your boyfriend. It’s odd. Louis is odd. And that’s cool, but Zayn’s not sure it’s something he wants to be involved in. Sure Louis is cute and he’s obviously got an interesting way of thinking, but Zayn’s doesn’t know him.

But there’s something in his offer that sounds appealing. And Zayn thinks it might have to do with the wedding invitation sitting on his coffee table. So while Zayn wants to say no, he doesn’t.

“Yeah,” Zayn sighs, nodding. “Whatever. I’ll be your fake boyfriend, but only if you return the favor.”

Louis grins, sharp teeth on display once more, pleased to have gotten through to Zayn so easily. Zayn’s sure he’s got some fight in him, sure that Louis wouldn’t have taken no that easily.

>>>>

“So what are we going to tell people?” Zayn asks, leaning back against his couch as he finishes his sandwich, watching Louis as he tries to act like he’s not going through Zayn’s things. He very much is, pulling books off Zayn’s bookshelves, flipping through them.

“We tell them that we’re boyfriends,” Louis says, shrugging. He tosses the book back on the shelf, turning towards Zayn. “Have you ever done this before or are we also going to have to explain to your friends that you’re gay? If you’re gay. Bisexual. Whatever sexual you choose as your own, if any.”

“My friends know what my sexuality is, but we have to give them more than that. We can’t just say we’re boyfriends, especially when it has to look convincing,” Zayn says, sitting up a little straighter. “We have to know what we’re doing; otherwise we might as well not even do this.”

“Alright, calm down,” Louis breathes out, sitting down on the couch next to Zayn. “Where should we start? What would make a convincing story?”

“Well, we have to know how we met.”

“Easy, we met here. In our building.”

Zayn nods. “Yeah, that’ll work, but what else? We have to have details.”

“Okay.” Louis nods his head, rubbing at the trace of stubble on his jaw as he thinks, trying to figure something out.

Zayn thinks with him, wondering how they would have met in an alternate reality. There are a lot of options, maybe Zayn went up to yell at him for being too loud one night, or maybe he’s just casually walking up the stairs with his arms filled with groceries and Louis helps him, putting on the charm as they walk up the stairs. He’d stay for dinner, obviously, and they’d talk until the early morning, both of them so wrapped up in the other that they forget about time, forget about everything. It’s classic storybook.

“We met in the laundry room,” Louis says, eyes squinted as he voices his idea. “You were waiting for a washer but I was using them all and my clothes, they’d been in there for hours. I’ve been known to do that.”

“That’s you? You’re the asshole who uses all three washing machines?”

“Yes, I’m that asshole,” Louis says, folding his arms over his chest. “But you’re the asshole who tries yelling at me for it, in our dream scenario, not in real life. In real life you just deal with it.”

“No, in real life I’m the asshole who puts your freshly clean clothes on top of our dusty dryers, letting them wrinkle as they air dry,” Zayn admits, shrugging when Louis’ mouth drops open.

“That’s you?” Louis cries, staring at Zayn in disbelief.

“Yeah, that’s me. But we don’t have to tell your friends that.”

“No. No, I think we do. Because obviously we get into a fight about it, about how you’re touching my underwear without my permission.”

“And then what, we get into a fight and decide that we’re destined to be together?”

Louis huffs, kicking off his shoes and leaning back against the couch, making himself far too comfortable for a stranger in Zayn’s home. But it’s whatever, Zayn guesses, if this is going to work then they need to be at ease with each other, Zayn needs to be able handle watching Louis prop his feet up on his coffee table.

“I came up with an idea,” Zayn mumbles, rubbing his hands together nervously. Louis looks at him, eyebrow raised. “You help me carry my groceries into my apartment, then we start talking and you stay for dinner, then things just go well. We talk all night. That’s how we first meet,” he says, watching as Louis nods in approval.

“That’s good. You’re good at this, Zayn.”

Zayn shrugs. He works with books for a living, granted all he does is do the illustrations but he’s seen how stories happen, and that’s what they’re doing. They’re making up a story, a story of their lives together.

“What about our first kiss?” Louis asks. “They shouldn’t ask about that, they’re not the kind to pry, but you said we should be prepared, so how did we kiss? When did we kiss?”

“Well, you initiated it. You don’t seem like the type to wait, so it’d happen soon. How soon do you usually kiss people?” Zayn asks, head resting against the back of the couch as he watches Louis, the other boy pulling his feet off the coffee table so he can tuck them under his legs.

“You, as soon as I could. Definitely within the first week. Hell, I’m surprised I’m waiting the first day, since we got on so well.”

Zayn laughs, shaking his head. “The third day, then. We kiss on the third day, at night, out on the fire escape. You saw me out there smoking, came down to talk and then we kissed, slow and—it was good. It was late at night, right as the moon hit the very center of the sky.”

Louis’ looking at him, nodding thoughtfully. He doesn’t say much, but he seems to agree with what Zayn’s saying, agreeing that it’s good for their fabricated lives.

“Have we had sex?” Zayn raises an eyebrow and Louis laughs, eyes wrinkled and teeth on display. “Fair enough. But how soon, how soon after we got together. Actually, how long have we been together?”

“What’d you tell your friends?”

“Well, we haven’t seen each other in two months, little bit more.”

“Then we’ve been together for three,” Zayn says, figuring that a month is good, most people don’t talk about their relationships when they’re new, when they’re unsure of how they’re going to turn out. “And we had sex after two weeks.”

“Two weeks?”

“Yeah.”

“Wow, you sure do know to keep your man happy,” Louis teases, winking at him. “But that sounds about right, sounds like me at least, so I know my friends will believe it. If they ask.”

“Are your friends really that nosey?”

Louis shrugs. “It depends on how drunk Harry gets. He loves details sober, but he usually knows where the limit is. Unless he’s drunk, then he has no boundaries.”

“That’s your friend’s name? Harry?”

“Yeah, Harry Styles.”

“The singer?”

“Yeah, that’s him,” Louis admits, nodding. Zayn whistles, impressed. He’s listened to a few of his singles, listens to the albums on repeat for a while there. “The other one is Liam. Liam Payne.”

Zayn scoffs, rolling his eyes. “Do you have any friends that we have to convince that aren’t rich and powerful? Fucking Christ, man.”

“That’s why I need to impress them,” Louis cries. “Their lives are fucking amazing. They’re both twenty-four, and look at them. Harry has taken over the world; every person in the world wants to either be his friend or more. Then there’s Liam, his family fucking built this town. And he’s taking it over; he’s working on building fifty towns.”

“And you’re…what?”

“Teaching kids how to spell,” Louis grumbles, shrugging like he’s been embarrassed.

“Education is important, Louis, at every level. You’re crucial to a child’s development,” Zayn tells him. “Just because you’re not making millions and the entire world doesn’t know your name doesn’t make you inadequate or less of a person. They’re your friends; obviously they don’t care about what you do for a living.”

“Yeah, well,” Louis shrugs, obviously not willing to listen to Zayn. “What about you? What’s your job?”

“I’m an illustrator. Mostly for children’s books, but I’ve done some other things. Nothing mainstream, nothing where anyone would recognize my name.”

“And what is your name? I only know your first name.”

“Malik. My last names Malik,” he says, and then he tells Louis everything he can about himself, everything that someone would be able to learn in three months. He’s sure there are things he’s missing, things that he doesn’t even pick up about himself. And when he’s finished, Louis talks to him, telling him about his sisters and baby brother, everything that he can.

Louis leaves his apartment after the sun goes down and Zayn feels overwhelmed in his knowledge about the other boy.

>>>>

Zayn meets Liam and Harry three days later. He’s scared out of his mind, his nerves vibrating inside of him. It’s scary, having to prove to people that he’s living a life that he’s not. He met with Louis briefly yesterday, running over the plan and acting out the night. Louis took the opportunity to act like both Liam and Harry, giving Zayn an idea on how they’d act for the night.

“What’s your sister’s name again?” Zayn asks, tugging on the hem of his shirt.

“Which one?” Louis asks, taking a sip of his drink.

“Right, you have more than one. Fuck, I knew that,” Zayn groans, shaking his head. “I’m forgetting everything. This isn’t going to work. They’re going to know that I’m a fraud. Doesn’t Harry have bodyguards? Are they going to beat my ass?”

“God, you’re overreacting,” Louis laughs, pushing Zayn’s drink closer to him on the table. “You’ll be fine, honestly. I think Liam will love you. The key to Harry is to laugh at his jokes.”

“Is he funny?” Zayn asks when he’s finished swallowing a mouthful of alcohol, feeling as it glides down his throat and drops into his stomach.

“No. Not at all,” Louis murmurs, eyes on the crowd. “They’re here. Now, just remember, be yourself. The only thing you’re faking is your feelings for me. It’s going to be fine.”

Zayn nods, wetting his lips and scooting a little closer to Louis. He feels comfortable around him, and if he’s going to be convincing then he needs to be close to him. Zayn drapes him arm over the back of his chair, shrugging when Louis raises an eyebrow at him.

“Louis, I’m scared out of my fucking mind,” Zayn mumbles, watching as Harry and Liam stop at the bar. Harry waves his hand around and Louis nods, holding up two fingers. Zayn’s glad he can speak Harry’s sign language.

“You’re going to do great,” Louis tells him, squeezing his knee under the table. “Over thinking it will ruin everything, just relax. And be yourself. They’ll love you.” Louis pauses, fixing his hair. He looks at Zayn, silently asking him what he thinks. There’s a hair out of place, sticking up a bit in the front. Zayn reaches out, smoothing it down for him.

“There, that’s better.”

“Thanks.” Louis smiles at him. “Now, they’re coming over here. Make sure you talk about how great I am.”

Zayn rolls his eyes, but he doesn’t get a chance to reply because Harry and Liam are approaching the table, identical grins on their faces as they take their seats, sliding drinks to both Louis and Zayn.

“Louis, introduce me to your friend,” Harry says, grinning prettily as he bites down on his straw, neon orange liquid running through it.

Louis takes a deep breath and Zayn squeezes his shoulder, letting him know it’s okay. “This is Zayn, I told you about him. Zayn, that’s Harry and Liam, my best friends.”

“Yeah, I remember,” Zayn says, reaching across to shake both their hands, smiling at the pair of them. “Louis talks about you both all the time.”

“You should know he’s a liar,” Harry says, nodding seriously. “Unless it’s good things, then he tells nothing but the truth and I am, in fact, just as wonderful as he lead you to believe.”

Liam rolls his eyes. “We’re really happy to meet you. You know, it was kind of shock when Louis told us that he had a boyfriend.”

“We didn’t believe him.”

“Yeah, we didn’t. We thought—well, it doesn’t matter what we thought.”

“No, he does. Don’t know why he wouldn’t tell you,” Zayn mutters, turning to look at Louis. “Usually you can’t stop this one from talking.”

“I hadn’t seen them,” Louis defends, shifting in his seat. “We’ve already been over this.”

“I know we have, babe. I’m only teasing,” Zayn says, moving his arm back around Louis’ shoulder so he can pull him closer, breathing out when Louis grins at him over the rim of his glass, very subtle so Liam and Harry don’t notice.

“But you guys have been going out for a while?” Harry asks, twirling his straw around, staring at Zayn incredulously.

“Just about three months,” Zayn tells them.

“Well, depending on when you count from.”

“Louis, no one counts from first meeting. That’d—do you know how astronomically long some relationships would seem if they did that?”

“Ours would still be three months. It counts,” Louis says, placing a hand over Zayn’s mouth to stop him from countering. “Don’t argue, love, you’re only going to lose. I’ve already decided.”

“Yeah, alright,” Zayn mumbles, pulling Louis’ hand away from his mouth. He holds it on the table, making a show of stroking his thumb along Zayn’s skin. “What about you and your girlfriend, Liam? Louis mentioned you just got engaged, how long have you been together?”

“About four years now,” Liam admits and Zayn whistles, low under his breath. “Yeah, it’s been a while.”

“No, that’s great, man. Happy for you,” Zayn says, smiling at him. “What about you Harry?”

Harry rolls his eyes, and Zayn shrinks back. He forgot that Harry was famous, forgot that there are probably questions he doesn’t want to answer for a relative stranger. Zayn’s not like the interviewers he talks with, he doesn’t have a list of questions in front of him that have been preapproved.

Zayn looks at Louis, chewing on the inside of his cheek. He’s trying to tell Louis with his eyes that he didn’t mean to press any buttons, he didn’t mean to offend Harry.

“I’m really sorry,” Zayn mumbles, clearing his throat when his voice falters. “I didn’t mean to—to pry. I know you probably don’t want to talk to me. Sorry.”

“What?” Harry asks, confused. “No. No, you’re fine. Honestly.”

“Harry rolled his eyes because he doesn’t know how to keep a girlfriend,” Louis says, squeezing Zayn’s hand reassuringly. “Besides, it’s not winter. He only dates in the winter, right around the holidays.”

“Oh piss off,” Harry groans, reaching across the table to swat at Louis. “It has nothing to do with that. I’m just not seeing anyone. Everyone around this table is happy and with someone, while I’m alone. I’m bitter.” He pouts, sucking his straw back into his mouth.

“Harry and I started drinking before we got here,” Liam admits, clapping Harry on the back. “He had a few more than me, don’t take anything he says too serious.”

Zayn nods, breathing out a sigh. It’s easy to see why Louis would want to impress these two. Hell, Zayn knew it before he even met them. But sitting here, listening as Liam talks about the new hotel they’re building, the one with luxury suites that they’re hoping will bring more tourism to the city, it makes Zayn feel inadequate as well, all he does is draw pictures. And then there’s Harry, talking about how he’s in the works for filming a documentary, a film to show his life in and out of Hollywood.

They’re amazing people, and Zayn gets it. He gets why he’s here. He’s just happy that they’ve believed them, believed that they’re together, even if they’re not.

Louis doesn’t let go of Zayn’s hand for the remainder of the night.

>>>>

Afterwards they get ice cream, stopping at a parlor a few blocks away from their apartment building. Zayn watches as Louis samples his fifth ice cream flavor, asking for a taste of the coffee, the strawberry, the mint, each of them tasted with a shake of his head and sigh of disappointment. Zayn has to keep from laughing behind his cookie dough, gripping onto the cone as he watches from right behind him.

“Think I’ll take the peanut butter cup,” Louis says, tapping on the glass.

“You couldn’t have done that five minutes ago?” Zayn asks, licking at the top of his ice cream cone, watching as Louis shrugs.

“Might have, but I wanted to see if the other flavors could beat it’s taste, and they can’t,” Louis explains, turning back to the scooper. “Thank you, love,” he says to her, pulling money out of his wallet to pay for their ice cream. They had argued about who was going to pay on the way over, but Louis said it was his friends that they just lied to so he might as well be the one to foot the bill for the night. Zayn wasn’t going to argue after that, because it wasn’t like Louis was lying, he did have to answer all of Harry’s invasive questions about what he did for a living, where Harry could find him if he needed to, where Zayn liked to go in his free time, not what he liked to do, but where he liked to do it.

“How do you think I did tonight?” Zayn asks, holding the door open for Louis as they exit. He stares at Louis, his tongue swirling around the top of his cone as he shrugs, making Zayn groan. “Louis, come on.”

“What? I don’t know! I mean, they seemed to really like you. Harry wouldn’t shut up, was talking to you about everything, which is always a good sign. Although Harry could talk to dirt, honestly,” Louis laughs, shaking his head. “But everything went well, I thought. Did you think it was bad?”

“No,” Zayn answers, shaking his head. “This was your thing, your night, I didn’t want to ruin it.”

“Didn’t ruin anything. You heard them, they didn’t believe me, so all you needed to do was show up and everything was going to be fine.”

Zayn nods, focusing his attention on his ice cream as they walk back home. It’s nice, the cool breeze wrapping around them as the taste of vanilla fills his mouth. He can feel some of the alcohol in his blood and in his stomach, sloshing around as he walks, but there’s not enough to make his head fuzzy, to make him feel it in the morning. They were both careful, not wanting to drink until they couldn’t control themselves and they did something stupid, like tell the truth.

It would have been awful.

“So what about you?” Louis asks, pulling Zayn out of his head and back into reality. “When are you going to need my boyfriend services?”

“Five and a half weeks,” Zayn tells him.

“What’s the occasion?”

“My ex-fiancée is getting married.”

Louis sucks in a breath, shaking his head. “Shit. That’s rough.”

Zayn shrugs. “It’s not too bad. Like, I’m not worried about it. It’s just, my friend Niall thinks that I need a date. He insists that if I went alone that I’d look a bit pathetic, given that she’s my ex.”

“Well, I wouldn’t say it’s pathetic,” Louis mumbles, grinning at Zayn when he turns to glare at him. “It’s only pathetic if you make it that way, which you’re not.”

“No, I’m not,” Zayn assures him, turning back to his ice cream for another bite. “The truth is I don’t want to go alone. It’s just… one of those ex things, I guess. She didn’t invite me to rub her happiness in my face, but I still want to show her that I’m okay. And going alone would be better than not going at all.”

“But you want to make it seem like you’re genuinely happy for her, because if you show up with a date then she won’t feel as bad for inviting you.”

“Something like that, I guess.”

“Well, I guess we’ll have to decide if we want matching suits,” Louis jokes, knocking his shoulder into Zayn’s as they stumble home, laughing into their ice creams as they plan it. Louis in magenta and Zayn in coral, polka dots and glitter, doing everything they can to look flashy and unbothered. It’s all a joke, but it makes Zayn feel better about having a total stranger pretend to love him for a night.

>>>>

Zayn’s working, trying to anyway; he’s got the notes from the author on what they’d like for their story, the manuscript, and everything else that he needs in order to start drawing. This particular author wants to see drafts before they approve them, a bit of a control freak, if Zayn’s being honest, but he doesn’t mind. If he worked hard on an idea then he’d want to see it come to life in just the way he imagined as well.

But it’s not the notes or the author that are keeping him from drawing the way he wants, it’s Niall. He’s hovering around Zayn, doing his absolute best to try and nab Zayn’s attention away from the story and onto him.

Zayn’s not taking the bait. Well, he wasn’t, until Niall says:

“So, I have a list of potential candidates to be your date for the wedding.”

“You what?” Zayn says, dropping his pencil to turn around and face Niall. “I thought I told you not to.”

“Well,” Niall says, shrugging. “I knew what you really meant.”

“No. I really meant no,” Zayn declares, watching as Niall gives him a look and a sympathetic headshake.

“It’s okay, I understood what you meant,” Niall tells him, dropping down on the couch, throwing his feet up on the table. “Now, I’m going to tell you about some of these people and you let me know who sounds the most appealing. They’re all fucking ace, real great people, but I’m sure you’ll want to find the right one if we’re going to be convincing.”

“Niall, I don’t need a date.”

“Right, of course. Anyway, the first one is this girl named Clara. She’s cute, real petite. She’s a vet, which I’m sure you’ll love. I know you’re an animal lover. She’s got red hair.”

Zayn sighs, rubbing his temple. “She sounds great, but-“

“But not for you. That’s understandable,” Niall says, fingers drumming against his thighs. He’s always fidgeting, always moving and doing something. But right now he’s thinking, Zayn can see it in his eyes. He’s trying to figure out what to do about Zayn needing a date. “How about this other girl. Mariah. She’s a back up singer, does a lot of travelling so it’ll be believable if Perrie wonders why she hasn’t seen pictures of the two of you.”

“Niall,” Zayn sighs, trying not to sound tired and annoyed. He appreciates his friend’s help and yeah, he could probably use his help when it comes to finding an actual relationship, but he doesn’t need his help with this. “I don’t need a date for the wedding,” he holds up a hand to stop Niall from interrupting, “because I’m seeing someone already.”

“You what?”

“I have a boyfriend, so you don’t have to find me a fake boyfriend or girlfriend or whatever.”

“You have a boyfriend?”

“Yeah.”

“Since when?” Niall questions, eyes squinting as he glares at Zayn, studying him incredulously. “Why didn’t you tell me about it?”

“It was new; I didn’t want to jinx anything by having him meet my friends too early.”

Niall nods, rubbing at his jaw. “Well, I get to meet him now. I want to meet him now.”

“Yeah, fine,” Zayn says, watching as Niall jumps off the couch, grabbing his phone and wallet. “Where are you going?”

“Home, want to freshen up for dinner tonight when I meet your so-called boyfriend.”

>>>>

Zayn only has to wait a minute for Louis to open the door, dressed in a pair of sweatpants only, but he’s pulling a shirt over his head, shouting through the material, asking what’s up. Zayn doesn’t even think he knows that it’s him. He wonders briefly if he’s waiting for someone else, but he doesn’t really care, they’re pretending to be boyfriends; he can do what he wants at this point. So he brushes past him, stepping into the apartment.

“You have to meet my friend,” Zayn tells him, watching as Louis tugs his shirt down, closing the door and turning to face Zayn.

“Right now?”

Zayn shakes his head. “No, it’ll be later tonight. I would have tried for later but he sort of told me that this is what’s going to happen.”

“I was just about to order Chinese,” Louis says, leading Zayn into his apartment. It’s the exact same floor plan as his own, but Louis’ furniture is all wrong. It’s not in the right places; he’s got his couch pressed against the window where Zayn has his desk. He has a giant open space where Zayn has his couch, a rug, a coffee table and his television.

It’s alarming how much it sets Zayn on the edge, wanting to tell Louis to help him shove it all back into place.

“We could still order Chinese, we’d just have to wait for Niall,” Zayn says, watching as Louis shrugs, sighing as he drops down on his couch. He pats the space next to him, motioning Zayn over.

“Is he the only person that’ll be there tonight?”

“He’s the only friend that I have who would care enough to want to meet you.”

“What’d you tell him about me?” Louis asks, pulling his legs underneath his body as he turns towards Zayn. “Like, anything I need to know for later so I don’t ruin everything?”

Zayn shakes his head. “Nope, I told him I had a boyfriend, he asked me to repeat that bit of information, then he got up and said he was coming back for dinner and that he wanted to meet you.”

“Is he-“

“He’s cool. Laid back, go with the flow kind of guy. He’s not going to interrogate you like Harry or anything.” He’s cut off by the sound of Louis’ laughter, watching as he hides his face into one of the throw pillows, muffling the sound. “He’ll ask you questions, though.”

“He just won’t want the address to every place I’ve been since I was born.”

“Exactly.”

“You know he asked about you,” Louis says, and Zayn pulls a face, raising an eyebrow. “He wanted to know the next time he’d be seeing you, if I was still seeing you. I told him I was, obviously, and then he asked why he hasn’t seen you around.”

“Does he not believe us?” Zayn asks, feeling panic bubble up in his chest. He feels bad, because if Harry doesn’t believe him then he’s lost this. They’ve lost it. And he’s made this complicated for Louis, because here he is, lying to his friends in order to make his life sound a little bit better, to try and have a justifiable reason for being their friend. Louis wants to feel like he belongs with them, like he’s not the odd man out with a normal nine to five. He’s ready to gush out an apology, to do it all over again only better. He’ll do better. But before he can say that, before he can tell Louis how sorry he is, Louis laughs, shaking his head.

“It’s not about that, calm down. You looked like you were about to have a breakdown,” Louis says through a smile, patting Zayn’s thigh reassuringly. “He just—Harry collects people.”

“He collects people?”

“Yeah, if he meets someone and he likes them, well, they become his. Not in an ownership way or anything like that, he just wants to keep them around. Keep them close,” Louis explains.

“So Harry collected me?” Zayn says, sounding confused and a bit alarmed.

“It means he likes you, take it as a compliment,” Louis assures him. “I’m going to go shower. I have to look good for my debut as your man. Go ahead and help yourself to whatever you want. What’s mine is yours, yeah?”

“That’s marriage, Louis,” Zayn laughs, watching the other boy walk away. Louis waves him off, looking unbothered.

>>>>

Niall eyes Louis skeptically when he meets him, shaking his hand as his eyes scan Louis’ body, memorizing every last bit of him. Louis looks amused, smirking at Zayn over Niall’s shoulder; he’s almost preening under the attention. Zayn can’t help but roll his eyes.

“Ni, this is Louis,” Zayn says, trying to break Niall from his trance.

“Louis,” Niall says, taking his hand back. “Well, you’re definitely Zayn’s type.”

“Am I?” Louis says, raising an eyebrow. “How so?”

Niall shrugs. “You’re dating him, shouldn’t you know?”

“Maybe, but I’m asking you,” Louis says, bouncing on the balls of his feet. Zayn watches them with wide eyes, worried that something awful is going to happen. Zayn’s never really seen Niall in a confrontation before and he’s not sure he wants it to happen for the first time with his fake boyfriend. Obviously he’d take Niall’s side, but still.

But Niall’s smiling, impressed. “Well, I think that bit of attitude is the first reason.” Louis laughs, shrugging unapologetically. “But you just look like his type. Can’t really explain it, man. You just—Zayn, doesn’t he look like someone you’d be into?”

“Do you really want me to answer that, Nialler?” Zayn asks, reaching out to ruffle Niall’s hair. “Kind of already seeing him, aren’t I?”

“Not without my approval you’re not,” Niall protests as he shoves Zayn off him so that he can fix his hair with a scowl. “Everything before tonight doesn’t count. We’re starting this whole thing over.”

“So you’re saying that I have your approval?” Louis chimes in and Niall falters, realizing what he just said.

“I didn’t say that!”

“You kind of did.”

“Nope. I definitely did no such thing.”

“Zayn?”

Zayn holds his hands up, walking away from the pair of them. “Don’t look at me, I’m not getting involved in this. You two can fight it out.”

“Alright,” Niall says, holding his fists up. He bounces around a bit, ducking and acting like he’s dodging imaginary punches. “Should we go right here?”

Louis pretends to think about it, shaking his head. “Not sure Zayn would like it if we hit each other, so how about a round of Fifa? I win then you approve of me. You win, well, then I guess I’ll have to work a little harder for it.”

“Alright, you’ve got a deal.”

Zayn settles down on the couch between the both of them, listening as they both go off about how great they are and how badly the other is going to lose. Zayn rolls his eyes at their antics but let’s them go, because they’re getting along and that’s all that matters to him. Fake relationship or not, it means a lot to Zayn that Louis is trying, trying to get Niall’s approval and to make sure that Zayn doesn’t have a rough time during the short duration of their relationship.

Niall’s winning the game, bouncing around next to Zayn. He’s always been animated; unable to keep still and right now isn’t any different. He keeps standing up, moving the controller around like if the does this then it’ll make his player move better, because his body moving will alert the controller to how serious the current situation is.

But Louis doesn’t look too bothered about Niall winning; he looks amused, calmly sitting next to Zayn, his focus entirely on the screen in front of him.

Zayn’s bored, suppressing a yawn as he watches the two of them. He’s happy that they ordered Chinese before Niall got here, because maybe it’ll show up soon and then they’ll pause the game, giving him attention. He leans back, his head on Louis’ shoulder, body pressed into him as he brings his feet up to rest on Niall’s lap, forcing him still.

If they’re not going to give him attention then he’s going to demand it like a cat. He’s going to force himself onto the two of them, trying his best to get something out of them.

Niall doesn’t seem to realize that Zayn is even touching him, just continues to wave his arms around wildly in a seated position. Louis leans his head down, knocking it gently against Zany’s to let him know that he knows he’s there, that he hasn’t forgotten.

Zayn breathes out at that, grateful someone around here has remembered him. They wouldn’t even be playing this game if it weren’t for him.

In the end, Louis wins. It must have been his calm demeanor, the cool air surrounding him that led him to victory. Niall’s livid, jumping up, knocking Zayn’s legs off his lap and staring down them in shock.

“You cheated,” Niall declares.

“You can’t cheat in Fifa,” Louis reasons, passing Zayn his controller as a knock sounds at the door. “That’ll be the Chinese. Fuck, where’d I put my wallet?”

“Just use mine,” Zayn tells him, remembering that Louis paid last time. “It’s on the table by the door.”

Louis nods, patting Zayn’s thigh as he stands. “Thanks, babe.”

Zayn sits up slowly, watching as Niall shakes his head, obviously still annoyed that he lost. But he doesn’t look angry, he looks pleased, but that’s definitely not about the game.

“He’s fucking ace, man,” Niall says, dropping the controller down on the table. “God, think he might just be my favorite. I loved Pez, but Louis… He’s something else.”

“Glad you like him,” Zayn says, unable to keep the smile off his face.

“Well, I’m not the only who likes him,” Niall mumbles, winking at Zayn before he stands, muttering something about going to get them some beers. Zayn doesn’t really think about his words, but he does relax at them, happy to know that things are going well.

>>>>

Zayn stares at Louis, his eyes wide and mouth hung open no doubt. He’s not sure. There’s a lot of things he’s trying to control that just aren’t working for him right now. Like his face. He’s trying to look calm, like he doesn’t think Louis is out of his mind but he just might be. But Zayn knows that he’s not being successful. He’s going to have to be honest here; Louis probably is out of his mind. Of course he is, the first thing he ever said to Zayn was ‘do you want to be my boyfriend.’

“What’s the problem?” Louis asks, fingers tapping against the metal beneath them. They’re out on the fire escape, having climbed out of Zayn’s window to get a bit of fresh air.

“Did you even hear what you asked me?” Zayn says, leaning back against the brick of the building. He’s not as brave as Louis, there’s no way he’s going to rest against the railing and hope it’ll support him. That’s why his fingers are wrapped around Louis’ ankle, in case he needs to stop him from falling.

Louis rolls his eyes. “It's not that ridiculous of a request. We’re dating.”

“Fake dating.”

“Which is exactly why we need to practice kissing each other,” Louis declares, slapping the metal for emphasis. “How are we going to be around my friends, your friends, your ex-fiancée and not kiss? We have to at least once.”

“So we’ll do it then, when we have to. We don’t need to practice.”

“Yes we do,” Louis says, decisive and firm. “We can’t have an awkward first kiss in front of our friends. We have to look natural, like we’ve been doing it for a while. Which is the narrative that they have, so they’re going to expect us to be natural kissers.”

“And we will be. It won’t be awkward.”

Louis shakes his head, groaning as he gets up to his knees, crawling towards Zayn. “You’re really going to make this difficult, aren’t you?” He says and Zayn watches with wide eyes as Louis crawls over his legs, settling down on Zayn’s lap. “There. Now you have no choice but to kiss me.”

“You’re really persistent,” Zayn mumbles, thighs digging into the groves of the metal beneath him under his and Louis’ weight. He sighs when he sees that Louis is looking at him, eyebrows raised in a sort of challenge. “Alright fine,” Zayn mutters, leaning up and kissing Louis quickly. “There, happy?”

“What the fuck was that?”

“A kiss.”

“If you’re in the third grade.”

“You didn’t specify kisses. You just said a kiss.”

“You kissed me like I was your grandma, not like I was your boyfriend.”

That feels like an insult and a challenge all tied into one. And Zayn’s not going to back down from that, so Zayn does the only logical thing he can think of, which is wrap his fingers around the back of Louis’ neck, pulling him down so that their lips can meet once more. It’s soft and a bit awkward. Both of them trying to figure out what to do with their hands, how to tilt their heads into it, and the pressure to keep it from becoming something more, something inappropriate.

It’s nice, the kiss is. Louis’ lips are soft against his own. It’s—yeah, it’s a great kiss. Zayn can’t find anything wrong with it. It feels—it feels right, definitely not as awkward as it was a minute ago, as Louis grips onto Zayn’s hair, tugging him closer.

Louis pulls away first, eyes fluttering open as he stares down at Zayn.

“That was-“ He starts, but Zayn shakes his head, refusing to let go.

“We still need to practice that,” he says, pulling him down once more. He can feel Louis nod into the kiss, his fingers curling against Zayn’s scalp as Zayn moves to cup his jaw. He drags his tongue across Louis’ lips, feeling as he nods, opening his mouth for Zayn.

Zayn doesn’t know what he expected but it wasn’t this, for Louis to know exactly how he likes to be kissed. It’s amazing, the feeling of Louis’ tongue against his own, the feeling of their mouths moving and working together. But Louis can hardly sit still, he keeps moving around, with his hands, his mouth, trying to find a better angle.

Zayn thinks he might be half hard just from a bit of kissing, from Louis wiggling around on his lap, and he only hopes that Louis hasn’t noticed, won’t notice it, because he really doesn’t want to stop kissing.

They do need the practice, after all.

>>>>

The only thing Zayn is aware of is the shaking and the pressure on his shoulder. He doesn’t want to open his eyes, his bed too comfortable, sleep too appealing, but then he realizes. It hurts him; there is someone in his apartment with him, that someone is in his bedroom, shaking him awake. Zayn startles, jumping back and pulling away from whoever it is, his eyes snapping open. His breathing is erratic, coming in short, quick gasps. It takes a minute for his eyes to adjust but then he sees Louis, the other boy looking frantic and alarmed.

“You need to walk up and come up to my place,” he says, tossing back Zayn’s blankets. “Hurry up.”

“How the hell did you get in here?” Zayn asks, voice hoarse.

“I climbed down the fire escape,” Louis tells him, grabbing Zayn a shirt, he looks down at it, shaking his head. “You can get one at my place.”

“What the hell is going on, Louis? Why did you break into my apartment?”

“Well,” Louis says, turning to look at Zayn. He looks embarrassed, biting down on his bottom lip. “I might have lied. Um, I told Liam last night that you were spending the night at my place and that’s why I couldn’t go out. See, I didn’t feel like it. And I thought, well, maybe the boyfriend card would work, since he always uses the girlfriend one.”

“Okay, so what does that have to do with me?” Zayn asks, still lying on the bed. He doesn’t really want to get up, is the thing, because now that he’s no longer scared and Louis isn’t jostling him awake, he realizes that he’s hard. His dick is thick in his boxers, and well… He just doesn’t want to stand up right now. He needs a few minutes.

“He’s at my apartment. Like, he’s knocking on the door and shit. I don’t even know how he got into the building, someone was probably leaving and let him in like a jackass.”

“Won’t he go away?”

“No, because he’s calling me. I left my phone in my apartment. I couldn’t bring it down here, because if he can hear the ringing then he’ll know that I’ve left if it stops, or he’ll think I’m pressing ignore.”

Zayn releases a deep breath, closing his eyes and counting backwards from ten. This can’t be happening.

“Please, Zayn. I fucked up but you have to come up there, please,” Louis pleads and Zayn can’t say no. They’re in this together. He has to help him.

“Yeah, alright,” he says, kicking the blankets off his body and standing up.

“Wait, are you—“ Louis asks, waving his hand around in the direction of Zayn’s crouch.

Zayn sighs. “Leave it alone, Louis.”

“Right,” Louis agrees, nodding. He mimes locking his lips before he turns, heading out of Zayn’s bedroom. Zayn doesn’t bother with clothes, just presses his palm against his dick and walks; following Louis towards the window he broke into.

They climb the stairs in silence, the walk short before they’re stepping into Louis’ place, crawling over the couch. It’s a fire hazard is what it is, Louis’ apartment. Zayn doesn’t know how he can live like this.

“Go get into my bed,” Louis tells him. “And put on some of my clothes, like, pajamas and shit. They’re in the middle drawer. And for the love of god, do not come out here until that thing is soft. I’ll deal with Liam.”

Zayn laughs, muttering a ‘whatever’ as he walks into Louis bedroom, shutting the door behind him. It’s a mess, a complete disaster. There are clothes everywhere, scattered across the floor and hanging out of the drawers. They’re trickling out of the closet, almost taking over the bedroom. And well, it screams Louis.

Zayn drops down on Louis’ bed with a sigh, listening to the voices on the other side of the door. He can hear Liam mentioning something about bringing breakfast, donuts, and how he just wanted to pop in and see how he was doing, how he and Zayn were doing. Zayn laughs, shaking his head as he takes in more of Louis’ bedroom.

Louis has an Iron Man pillow, and a set of Avengers figurines on his dresser. Zayn didn’t expect him to be so—Zayn’s not sure what he expected, but it wasn’t this, for Louis to cuddle Tony Stark every night when he sleeps. He can’t help but laugh at the thought, having to cover his mouth to keep the others from hearing.

It takes a minute to compose himself before he stands, grabbing some of Louis’ clothes like he said and stepping into the adjoining bathroom. If he’s going to spend his morning pretending to be someone’s boyfriend, then he wants a shower first.

>>>>

Liam’s still there when Zayn gets out of the shower, not like he didn’t know that would be fact. But still, he was hoping that maybe he’d bugger off, find his own plans for the day so Zayn wouldn’t have to do this at ten in the morning, but alas, Liam doesn’t seem the type to give up so easily.

Louis looks less than impressed, eyeing Zayn as he walks into the room, grinning at them.

“Sorry I took so long, babe,” Zayn says, feeling brave as he leans forward and presses a kiss to Louis’ cheek. He only kind of means it. He turns to Liam next, holding out his fist and waiting for Liam to knock his against his own. “Hey, man. We definitely weren’t expecting you this morning.”

“Yeah, sorry. I just wanted to pop in and see Louis before I disappear for a week. I saw Harry last night, but…”

“But I took him,” Zayn says, accepting the tea Louis gives him. “Sorry, I didn’t realize you were going away.”

“Yeah, we’ve got to wrap up a contract up north. My dad wants me up there to oversee everything as it kicks off, to make sure nothing goes wrong.”

“Right, yeah. Well, if you two need to catch up then I could head home,” Zayn says, taking a sip of his tea.

“No, you couldn’t,” Louis tells him, pinching his ribs.

“It sounds like your friend just wants to see you, babe.”

“But we have plans today, babe. Wouldn’t want to bail on me, would you? Have you made plans with someone else, darling?” Louis asks his voice saccharine as he stares at Zayn, sharp pointy teeth on display as he smiles. It’s almost threatening in a way, like he’s begging Zayn to stay and challenging him to try and leave all at once.

Zayn kind of likes it.

“You could stay,” Liam pipes in, looking between the two of them, eyes darting back and forth.

“Yeah, listen to Liam,” Louis says, grabbing a donut and passing it to him. “Eat up, you could use the nourishment.”

“A donut is hardly nourishing.”

“It’s food,” Louis protests, looking offended. “Who cares about its nutritional value when it’s free. Don’t insult the guest, eat up.”

“You two are funny,” Liam says, his eyes wrinkled as he smiles at them fondly. “Honestly, you argue like you’ve been together for ages. It’s nice.”

“We’re not arguing,” Louis says, sniffing.

“Yeah, you’re bickering,” Liam corrects, laughing.

Liam stays for a couple hours, the three of them lounging on Louis’ fire hazard couch and talking. Liam tells them about the hotel they’re building, showing pictures of the plans they have. He sounds excited, admitting to them that this is his first time truly working on his own, without his father there to give him advice.

They talk about everything, Zayn learns about him, and the more he listens to Liam talk, the more he likes him. Liam is nice, caring, and funny. Zayn can see the bond between him and Louis, can see the way they feed off each other, especially when Louis pulls out his gaming system, challenging Liam to one last game of Fifa before he goes.

Louis is still playing after Liam leaves, playing against the game system or some random person, Zayn’s not sure. He’s snagged some clean white paper from Louis, wanting to work on a few drafts for his illustrations. He doesn’t have the papers with him, but he has a vague memory of what he’s supposed to be doing. It’s just a draft, a springboard; it doesn’t have to be perfect.

He’s so engrossed in his work that he doesn’t realize Louis has stopped playing his game, that he’s curled up on the couch next to him, watching him work. He doesn’t realize it until Louis begins to get antsy, prodding Zayn in the arm, trying to get Zayn’s attention, like a child.

“What do you want, Louis?” Zayn asks, eyes still on the paper in front of him.

“Three weeks until the wedding,” Louis says, and that gets Zayn’s attention, causing him to drop the pencil and turn to look at Louis. “Right? Three and a half, whatever.”

“Yeah, something like that.”

“Maybe we should map out what we’re gonna do,” Louis says, biting his lip as he nods.

“We’re going to show up and enjoy the free food and drinks,” Zayn says. Well, that’s not really the wedding, but watching that is a given.

“Zayn, it’s a wedding, we have to look the part.”

“We’re going to be wearing suits.”

Louis laughs, shaking his head. “Zayn.”

“What? It’s not like we’re the ones getting married,” he says, leaning back against the couch so he can look at Louis properly. Louis rolls his eyes. “Alright fine, what do you mean?”

“It’s a wedding, so like, we’ll have to dance and be close. We’ll have to be intimate, because weddings are—They’re filled with love. Couples there always get all mushy and shit, it’s in the air. So we have to look the part,” Louis explains.

“Okay,” Zayn says, nodding slowly. “I mean, none of that stuff is going to be a problem. We just get on the dance floor and like, sway and shit. I’ll hug you a couple times.”

Louis rolls his eyes once more. “I was thinking—I mean, we kissed and stuff, but it felt stiff.” Zayn blinks, trying not to feel offended. He thinks he did a pretty damn good job kissing Louis, actually. “Maybe we should keep practicing,” Louis suggests, shrugging his shoulders.

Zayn doesn’t know what to say, honestly. He’s still a bit offended that Louis didn’t enjoy kissing him as much as he enjoyed kissing Louis. He thought things were great between them that night on the fire escape. He thought that for a first kiss it was pretty amazing, actually, and here Louis was acting like it’s nothing.

“So like, do you wanna make out or what?” Louis asks and Zayn looks at him, watching the waggle of Louis eyebrows. And oh. Okay. He wasn’t really trying to insult Zayn, he was—Well, Louis just wants to roll around on his couch like a couple of teenagers, hands in each other’s hair and tongues in each other’s mouth. And yeah— Zayn’s definitely down for that.

“Yeah alright.”

Louis grins, practically throwing himself on top of Zayn, knocking him down on his back as he connects their lips. Zayn laughs, trying his best to kiss Louis through it. Louis pinches his side and licks into his mouth, effectively shutting him up.

It’s much better than the night on the fire escape, Louis still does marvelous things with his tongue, still runs his fingers all over Zayn’s body, gripping at him and touching him, except this time he uses his hips, rotating them slowly, like he can’t control himself.

And yeah, it’s definitely much better.

>>>>

Zayn’s phone beeps from its spot on his desk, vibrating and shifting away from him. It’s almost like a sign, the one he’s been looking for, telling him to rest his eyes and take a break from his work. He’s been going at it for hours, his eyes are dry and his stomach is contracting in hunger. It’s just the thing he needed, honestly.

He picks up it up slowly, rubbing at his tired eyes as he stumbles towards the kitchen, wanting to make something to eat.

When he finally checks it, glancing down at it as he yanks open the fridge door he sees it’s from Louis, a picture message of him holding a hammer. It’s the one from the movies, the one that belongs to Thor.

The message attached reads, **_fuckin sick right???? think i need it_**

Zayn laughs, shaking his head.

_Dont you alrdy hve it mate ?_

**_but u dont_** _,_ Louis replies.

_nah dont think i do_

Louis sends him another selfie, grinning at the check out. Zayn scoffs, shaking his head as he grabs his leftover curry, popping the lid off and throwing it into the microwave. It’s never as good the second time around, reheating it, but he’s hungry as hell and he’s not going to complain. Actually, he might make a sandwich as well. Yeah, he’s earned it, curry and a sandwich. His phone vibrates once more against the counter.

Zayn doesn’t answer it until he has his food, his sandwich shoved in his mouth.

 ** _bought my man his thor hammer,_** the text reads and Zayn laughs as he chews through his food, almost snorting.

 _my hero <3, _Zayn sends back.

**_ive got full iron man suit, can i wear it in our fake sex ?????_ **

****

_who do i to dress up as ?_

**_thor obvs_** _,_ Louis texts him and Zayn rolls his eyes, because yeah, obviously. What was he thinking?

**_you could maybe use the hammer to spank me but gentle bc its got power_ **

Zayn does snort at that, almost spitting out a bit of curry as he laughs, head thrown back as his body vibrates with joy.

 _ur disgusting,_ Zayn tells him, still laughing.

**_i know :((( does that mean u wont join me out with my friends tonight??? li is back early, want to go out_ **

_can i bring niall?_

Louis replies with another selfie, a picture of him with his thumb up, smiling. Zayn shakes his head, setting his phone down once more. He makes a note to text Niall after his meal, of course.

>>>>

Everyone is there before Zayn, not together entirely, but they’re all there. Niall is sitting at the bar, drink in hand and waiting for Zayn. He rolls his eyes when he sees him, moving across the club towards the bar. Niall perks up when he sees him, grinning, cheeks flushed as he hops off his stool, staggering towards Zayn.

“Why aren’t you sitting over there with Louis?” Zayn asks, wrapping an arm around Niall’s shoulder, pulling him in for a quick hug. “Did you not see him?”

“No I saw him,” Niall says, throwing an arm over Zayn’s shoulder and walking him towards the bar. “Didn’t want to make things awkward and intrude when you weren’t here.”

Zayn rolls his eyes again. “He wouldn’t have felt awkward.”

“Yeah, well, most people don’t want to deal with the boyfriend’s friends when the boyfriend isn’t around, you know?”

“Where do you make this shit up at?” Zayn laughs, running his fingers through Niall’s hair. “Honestly.”

Niall just grins, flagging down the bartender and ordering two more drinks, one for him and one for Zayn. “Should we get the boyfriend one?”

Zayn turns and looks in Louis’ direction, trying to see what he’s drinking and what if he needs more of it, but the table is littered with glasses and bottles. “He’ll be fine, I think.”

“How come you didn’t tell me his best friend was Harry Styles?”

“Don’t embarrass him.”

“I’m not going to embarrass anyone; I just would have dressed better. I look like shit.”

Zayn looks at his best friend, starting at his hair and ending at his feet. He sees nothing wrong with him, not with his vans, his new skintight jeans, or t-shirt. He looks fine, and in Zayn’s opinion, better than Harry, who is also wearing skintight jeans but a long-sleeved button down on top; it’s sheer and burgundy, with gold flowers. Zayn thinks there might be some kind of sequin used for the gold, because they glint in the light, sparkling when Harry moves the right way.

“He’s in no position to judge you,” Zayn tells his friend, sliding money over towards the bartender when they get their drinks. “And I’ve met him, he’s nice. Don’t worry, come on.”

Niall releases a deep breath and grabs both of his glasses, letting Zayn guide him across the bar towards the table that Louis, Liam, and Harry are sitting at. It’s behind a rope and Zayn stares at Niall with wide eyes when the bouncer tries to stop them.

“Um.”

“No, they’re good,” Louis says, suddenly appearing out of nowhere. “They’re with us.”

“They’re with me,” Harry shouts, grinning and leaning into Liam’s space. Now that they’re closer Zayn sees the girl standing next to Liam, long dark hair and wearing a purple dress. There’s a diamond on her finger and Zayn thinks that must be Sophia.

“What the fuck,” Niall mutters and yeah, Zayn seconds that. “That’s why I didn’t come sit by your boyfriend,” Niall whispers, raising an eyebrow at Zayn. “What the hell was that?”

“I don’t know,” Zayn replies, turning away from Niall to look at Louis. “What was that about?”

“Harry,” Louis says, shrugging like it’s an actual answer. Niall must be giving him the same look at Zayn is because Louis laughs, shaking his head. “You could call this the VIP area, so you have to know someone who knows someone in order to get in.”

“Unless you’re Harry.”

“Yeah, unless you’re Harry,” Louis laughs, slipping an arm around Zayn’s waist. He leans in close to Zayn, pushing up and whispering in his ear, “Should you kiss me now? You know, to show all my friends that you’re not a neglectful boyfriend?”

Zayn wants to make a comment about Louis left his friend sitting along at the bar for who knows how long, but Niall doesn’t seem bothered, so instead he obliges, pressing his lips against Louis’ quickly, winking at him. He knows Louis hates that, hates short kisses that don’t go anywhere, but he left Niall to fend for himself, so that’s the most Louis Tomlinson is getting out of him tonight.

“Zayn, you’re here,” Harry shouts, shoving past Sophia and Liam. “Introduce me to your friend. Hi, I’m Harry,” he says, grinning at Niall. “I’m Harry.”

“Yeah, Harry, this is Niall,” Zayn says.

“Harry’s got a thing for blonds,” Louis whispers in his ear. “You should probably keep an eye on that.”

“Will do,” Zayn mutters, leaving the two of them alone as he steps towards the table. He was right about the girl being Liam’s fiancée. She’s nice enough, from what he can tell. She doesn't talk much, very soft spoken, but she seems to hit if off with Niall, who can make anyone comfortable.

The best thing about being out with a popstar – it might just be Harry, actually – is that they’re more than willing to foot the bill, which means that the table is constantly stocked with drinks, anything that they want, they get. Zayn feels bad about it, but that disappears after his third drink, when Louis starts to get handsy.

It’s not the first time Zayn figured this out about Louis, but it’s the first time he’s really been like this in front of his friends, arms wrapped around Zayn’s waist, fingers dipping under his shirt, and running his fingers through Zayn’s hair as he talks to him, telling him stories about his day and how his Thor hammer is in his apartment, snuggled up with this Iron Man pillow.

Everything is great and everyone is having a great time, until Louis leans over and starts whispering in his ear about their text conversation earlier, how he would let him, if Zayn wanted to, if Zayn wanted to be with him then he could, even without Mjolnir.

Everything turns to shit after that, because now all he wants to do is leave, wants to get out of here and take Louis home.

>>>>

It’s hours later when they finally leave the club, both of them sobered up enough to really feel the weight of Louis’ words, the weight of his teasing as he grinded against Zayn on the dance floor while Harry spun in circles around them, in some weird sort of attempt at dancing.

It’s easy to pretend like they don’t know what’s happening in the cab ride home, and on the walk up the stairs towards Zayn’s apartment. But with every step they grow antsy, Zayn can feel it coursing through his veins, the realization of what’s going to happen.

Zayn gets his key in his door, holding onto the knob as he rattles it in the slot and throws his shoulder into it, groaning when the door doesn’t open like it usually does.

“What the hell was that?” Louis asks, staring at him with wide eyes. “Have you lost your mind?”

“No, the door doesn’t open unless you slam into it,” Zayn explains, wiggling the key around and slamming into it again, the door remaining firmly shut. “Sorry, sometimes it takes a couple tries.”

Louis groans from behind him, the other boy obviously jittery and waiting. Zayn is going to burn this door down if it kills the mood, if it prevents him from getting laid tonight. He’s going to rent a chainsaw and destroy it, turning it into sawdust if the damn thing doesn’t open.

“Move, move. Let me do it,” Louis says, shoving Zayn out of the way. He turns the key, pulls it out, and wiggles the handle to see that it’s locked. It’s not helpful. Then he shoves the key back into, turning it, pulls it out, and then turns the handle, pushing. The door pops open effortlessly for him, like it was waiting for Louis’ magic touch.

“What the hell was that?” Zayn mumbles, following Louis into his apartment. He kicks the door shut with more force than necessary, glaring at it.

“It’s called opening a door, Zayn.”

“You’re hilarious,” Zayn tells him, kicking off his boots and shrugging out of his jacket. Louis is moving much faster than he is, his shoe sailing across the apartment, soaring past Zayn’s head and hitting the door. “Was that meant to hit me?”

Louis grins, bouncing off the back of the couch and approaching Zayn. “No, but it sounds like an appealing thing to do now that you’ve mentioned it.”

Zayn doesn’t get an answer in, Louis moves faster than him, wrapping his arms around Zayn’s neck and pulling him in for a kiss. Zayn grips onto Louis’ waist, walking him backwards towards the bedroom. It’s hard, navigating through the dark when Louis keeps trying to pull Zayn in closer at the same time he’s trying to pull Zayn’s shirt off, whining that he can’t do both at the same time.

Zayn pulls away for him, biting down on Louis’ lip first before he shrugs his shirt off, motioning for Louis to do the same. Louis looks soft in the dark, gentle curves of his stomach standing out against the yellow glow of the room, lightened only by the lamps outside. But it suits Louis, Zayn thinks; he’s not sure sharp edges would make sense for him.

Louis is staring at Zayn, blinking slowly as he bites down on his bottom lip, thumbs holding onto the button at his jeans. Zayn moves slowly towards him, removing Louis’ hands and replacing them with his own, carefully working the button undone and then undoing the zip. He hears Louis breathe out, can feel it fan against his cheeks as he helps Louis out of his pants, watching as they drop to Louis’ ankles.

“Is this really happening?” Louis asks, swallowing. Zayn shrugs.

“Only if you want it to.”

Louis nods at that, moving to help Zayn out of his own pants, shrugging his boxers off in the same movement.

“For research, yeah?” Louis says, pulling off his own boxers. “In case anyone asks how it was, then we can tell them and we won’t be lying.”

“Yeah,” Zayn agrees, nodding. If that’s how they’re going to pretend this thing is then yeah. It doesn’t sit right with him, though, because this isn’t like the practice kissing, they’re not going to have to have sex in front of their friends. This moment, this is for them. This is the same moment that other couples share, moments just for them and no one else. So maybe Zayn’s lying when he says that it’s okay. He wants Louis to know that this isn’t pretend for him. Not this moment.

Louis moves to kiss him and Zayn lets him, catching his mouth hot and wet and inviting, letting Louis kiss him something fierce, something laced with heat and want and desire.

It makes Zayn’s head spin.

“Wait,” he breathes out, gently easing Louis off him. “This isn’t… We’re not pretending with this. This is real, right?”

Louis nods, fingers gripping onto Zayn’s shoulders. “I thought—I just thought that’s what you’d want. Pretend.”

“No, that’s not what I want,” Zayn answers, honest and sincere.

Louis kisses him again, mouth open, pulling Zayn in impossibly close, hands roaming across his body until it lands between them, fist wrapping around Zayn’s cock.

Zayn gasps into the kiss, fingers clenching around Louis’ biceps as Louis works him over, skin rubbing harshly against Zayn’s. It takes him a minute, but then Zayn is back to kissing him, tongue running over the roof of Louis’ mouth as his hands wander, down his arms and onto his ass, gripping the plump flesh and pulling Louis in closer, their cocks knocking together.

“Holy shit,” Louis breathes out, letting Zayn walk him backwards. Louis spins them around, gently lowering Zayn down to the bed and crawling over him, guiding him up towards the pillows. “We’re gonna need something for this.”

“In the drawer over there,” Zayn says, waving his arm in the direction of where he thinks his nightstand might be. His brain is fuzzy, trapped in a fog of pleasure as Louis continues to pump his cock at an impossible angle; one hand wrapped around Zayn and the other rummaging through his drawers.

Louis lets go of him, coating his fingers with lube and working silently. It makes Zayn’s gut twist in pleasure, watching Louis, knowing what’s about to happen, what they’re about to do.

“You’re sure, yeah?” Zayn asks once more. “This is us, not pretend, right?”

“It’s us,” Louis tells him, leaning down and kissing him hard, fingers moving to press into Zayn, one at a time, slow and torturous. He’s doing this properly, but Zayn doesn’t want proper. He wants to be fucked. He wants Louis to come through on his teasing, on his whispered promises of what tonight would bring. He didn’t promise fingers, he promised dick, and that’s what Zayn wants.

“I’m good,” Zayn whines, spreading his thighs as Louis is three fingers deep, moaning when Louis curves his fingers in just the right place, an obnoxious grin on his face. “Louis.”

“Yeah, I’ve got you,” Louis says, shushing him as he pulls his fingers out. “I’ve got you.”

Time ticks by slowly as Louis puts on the condom and coats it with lube, almost like there is a higher being at work here, trying to torture Zayn and make him wait. He’s not sure that he can wait much longer; his cock is throbbing, curved against his abs.

Louis scoots in closer, cock nudging against Zayn’s entrance as he leans down to kiss him, soft and wet, a sort of distraction as he presses into Zayn. It’s overwhelming. Zayn feels consumed by Louis, can feel his body stretch to accommodate him. He lets out a shaky breath when Louis stops, pulling away to check on him.

“I’m fine,” Zayn breathes out, nodding. “Just, it’s a lot.”

“Yeah?” Louis says with a smirk, shifting his hips, gently beginning to pull back out. “Thanks.”

“Oh god. Shut up,” Zayn laughs, nipping at Louis’ chin. “You’re unbearable.”

Louis’ smirk doesn’t disappear as he snaps his hips forward, forcing a guttural moan out of Zayn. Louis only laughs at the sound, pressing his lips against Zayn’s again, kissing him. It’s hot and wet and messy and the only thing Zayn can focus on during it is that Louis is shifting around inside of him, pressing against his prostate with every thrust and it’s _so much._

Zayn hasn’t had sex in so long; all he needs is just a bit more, just a bit harder. And Louis gives it to him; he doesn’t need to ask, because Louis is fucking into him faster, deeper, trying his best to get Zayn there. And if it’s not the movement of his hips, it’s the breathy gasps. The tiny pleasurable noises that Louis is trying to hide, the deep groans that sound almost painful as he bites down on Zayn’s lip.

Zayn can feel his orgasm coil up inside of him, twisting his gut and setting his nerves on fire as he gasps, cum spilling out of his untouched cock straight onto his stomach. It happened too quickly, so suddenly that he didn’t have a moment to warn Louis, didn’t have a second to tell him that it’s so fucking good. Louis is so fucking good.

Louis comes shortly after, when the edge of Zayn’s vision is no longer white and his fingers are no longer digging into Louis. Louis collapses on top of him afterwards, and Zayn wraps his arms around him, breathing the other boy in. Louis kisses his neck, panting as he comes down.

It’s nice. It’s good. Even better knowing that this is them, all of it. None of it is a lie. Zayn thinks that’s the best part. This wasn’t practice or a trick for anyone, but something they both wanted. Zayn presses a kiss to Louis’ temple, letting him go so that he can grab a wet cloth out of the bathroom.

>>>>

Zayn wakes up the following morning first, Louis pressed against his back, their legs tangled together. Louis is sleeping soundly, curled against him. Zayn can feel the rise and fall of his chest, the puffs of air that escape his mouth with every breath, and every inch of Louis skin. He’s still naked, which—well, Zayn takes that to be a good sign.

Zayn tries his best to move slowly, to stop himself from waking Louis up. It’s not successful, because as he’s rolling away from Louis’ grasp, he hears Louis sigh, releasing a deep breath combined with a tiny whine as he wakes; stretching out his legs and arms.

“Hey,” Zayn says, smiling at him. “Didn’t mean to wake you.”

“It’s fine,” Louis grumbles, rolling over onto his stomach. He’s using Zayn’s pillow now, holding it close and sighing, his eyes slipping closed once more. “Think I could eat an elephant.”

Zayn breathes out a laugh, shaking his head. He stands up, not worrying about the fact that he’s naked. “I can make you something after I shower. Feel grimy; want to wash that feeling off.”

“Mm, think I could use one of those too,” Louis mumbles.

It’s stupidly ridiculous the way that Louis makes his stomach flutter. It’s absurd how fond he is of the way Louis’ hair is rumpled and sticking up a bit, how grumpy he looks to be awake, even though his eyes can’t be assed to stay open for longer than three seconds. God, he feels awful. He feels like a schoolboy with a crush. He wants to crawl back into bed, pull Louis close and just lie there and maybe never let go until he absolutely has to.

He’s not going to do that, though. But he does have an idea.

“Yeah? Want to join me?” Zayn asks, already imagining Louis in the shower with him.

Louis is quiet for a moment and Zayn stares down at him, waiting patiently for Louis to answer. “Only if you start it and carry me in there.”

“I’ll start it, but I’m not carrying you.” Zayn turns before Louis can say anything, heading into his bathroom and starting a shower. He grabs two towels, then checks to make sure the water isn’t too hot before he heads back into his bedroom. “Alright, up you get.”

Louis groans, rolling once more towards Zayn so that he’s on his back. He breathes out, finally opening his eyes as he stands, moving sluggish, almost annoyingly so. He latches himself onto Zayn’s back when he turns away from him, gripping onto Zayn so that he’s forced to do the walking for them.

“You’re a pest,” Zayn tells him, almost dragging him into the shower and holding him up the under the spray of the water. “What if I dropped you and turned on the cold water? What would you do?”

“You wouldn’t dare,” Louis mumbles, eyes narrowed as he pulls his head out of Zayn’s neck, glaring at him over his shoulder.

“I wouldn’t?” Zayn asks, turning around to face Louis, arms still holding onto Louis’ waist, keeping him upright. “Think I might.”

“You like me too much to do something like that.”

“Eh, I don’t know about that.”

“No, it’s true.”

Zayn nods, breathing out. Yeah. It might be a little true. A lot true, whatever, same thing. It’s almost absurd, how much he feels for Louis, this stupid bubble of emotion forming in his chest that’s threatening to burst at any moment. Which would be awful, honestly, Zayn might do something straight out of Disney movie, like jump out onto the fire escape and sing Louis’ praises to the entire city. Or worse. He can hardly stand the thought of it. But it’s almost like he should have known, no one starts a pretend relationship without catching feelings. He’s only human and Louis is—well, Louis is easy to fall for.

“Yeah, I guess I do like you,” Zayn mutters, shrugging when Louis looks at him. He’s not the least bit sorry for how he feels. And honestly, Zayn’s kind of hoping that last night was a sign that they’re on the same page again, that maybe it might be a good idea to erase the word fake before relationship when it comes to how they see their time together.

But Louis doesn’t say anything about that, just turns and tells Zayn to wash his back for him. Zayn happily obliges, anything to get his hands on Louis’ skin.

>>>>

Louis goes missing after that. Or well, not literally. He’s still around, Zayn thinks. He doesn’t think that anything has happened to him or that anyone took him, but then again, it’s not like he would know. Louis hasn’t returned any of Zayn’s calls or texts since the night they shared together. Zayn doesn’t have any idea why.

He doesn’t need him for anything important, just wants to talk, just wants to see him.

_lou tv is having marvel marathon, u want to come down n watch ?_

Zayn waits a beat, knowing there’s no way that Louis is going to be able to resist. It’s the one thing that Zayn is certain Louis loves; certain Louis wouldn’t take the risk of missing. But then again, maybe he shouldn’t have said anything when it’s been days since he last seen the other boy and he might be avoiding him. Now Louis might try and watch it at his own place, without Zayn.

_playing iron man then avengers then thor_

_you can wear your suit, ive got my hammer_

Zayn feel stupid. Feels like he’s reaching for something that isn’t there. He feels like he did back in school, when he had a crush that wasn’t returned, the other person sparing his feelings as he embarrassed himself. But that can’t be true, not with Louis.

They have a deal. And that deal isn’t over yet. And it’s not like Louis knows that Zayn is stuck in his feelings and just wanting to be near Louis, he doesn’t know that. For all Louis knows Zayn is bored and lonely, wanting to get away from his work for a minute –which is true, Zayn finished a draft and scanned it over to the author, waiting to hear their critique.

All he wants to do is celebrate with his fake boyfriend and the Avengers. It’s really not that much to ask for.

Zayn takes a deep breath, because he’s being ridiculous, he’s being paranoid. Everything is fine. Honestly. Louis has a life and two very successful friends; he’s probably out with them and just hasn’t checked his phone. He’s probably busy with work. Zayn remembers hearing him complain about parent-teacher conferences.

Zayn laughs at himself, shaking his head. He really is being a fool. Everything is fine.

>>>>

There’s a week left until the wedding and Zayn is forced into the realization that something really is wrong.

There have been no signs of Louis, no texts, no phone calls, not even a sound from his apartment. Zayn doesn’t even hear him walking around, which is unusual, because Louis walks with a heavy step, especially if his emotions are strong. But there’s nothing.

Zayn had texted him earlier, wanting to know if Louis wanted to meet for lunch. But no answer. And that’s fine, but Zayn needs to talk to him. He needs to find out if Louis has gotten his suit for the wedding, if he’s ready.

Currently Zayn is getting his own suit fitted, getting it taken in a bit. It used to fit marvelously, like a glove, but when he tried it on the other day, it was loose, almost baggy. Definitely not appropriate for a wedding.

Zayn almost feels sick and he can’t figure out why. He feels like there’s some kind of black hole in his chest, sucking up all the positive energy and emotions surrounding him, because the only thing he can feel is worry and this…this thing. Zayn doesn’t even know how to describe it but it’s there, gnawing just under his ribs and threatening to spill out in the worst way.

It might be because Louis has cut him off, has disappeared without a trace when things were just beginning to change, beginning to flip on their axis and become something else, something bigger, something Zayn was welcoming with open arms. He was ready for it, whatever it was. But he wasn’t ready for this, because this—Louis disappearing wasn’t apart of that change. Zayn knows that, he knows it down to his core, knows it in the depth of his bones that this wasn’t supposed to happen.

So maybe that’s why it’s so hard. Maybe that’s why Zayn feels so much about this. Maybe.

Or maybe it’s so hard because things were so easy and then they weren’t. Maybe it’s because the lines were blurring, both of them forgetting that it was all supposed to be pretend.

Zayn doesn’t know. He wishes Louis would tell him something, would shed some light on what’s happening, but Zayn’s not sure that’ll ever happen, not unless he tries a bit harder in getting an answer.

>>>>

Zayn knocks on Louis’ door, probably a little harder than necessary, knuckles tender from the metal when he pulls away. He keeps his hand over the peephole, because Louis is not going to run away from this. He’s not going to tiptoe to the door and hide when he sees that it’s Zayn. It’s his house and that’s his prerogative, but Zayn would rather him ignore his knocks because he doesn’t know who it is, not because it’s him.

It takes a minute, right when Zayn is prepared to knock again when Louis swings the door open, his smile faltering.

“You’re not Harry,” he says, brushing his hair out of his face.

“No, I’m not Harry,” Zayn says, lowering his hand down from where it’s hung suspended in air. “You’ve been hard to reach lately.”

“Yeah, sorry,” Louis mutters, leaning against his doorframe. He makes no move to let Zayn in. It’s almost as if he’s blocking the entrance, like he’s guarding it, trying to keep Zayn out of it. And that—well, Zayn doesn’t understand that. “I’ve had a lot going on lately, just didn’t have the time.”

Zayn nods. Yeah. Louis doesn’t owe him anything. “Do you have a suit?” Zayn asks, wanting to change the subject.

“What?”

“A suit,” Zayn repeats, wishing he knew what to do with his hands. “The wedding is in a week.”

“No, I don’t have a suit,” Louis tells him.

“That’s fine,” Zayn sighs. It’ll be last minute but his tailor works miracles, he’s sure that he’ll do Zayn a favor and have Louis’ suit done on time, if he needs it. “We’ll have to get you one, like, preferably yesterday, but tomorrow will be fine.”

“No,” Louis says, shaking his head. “I mean, like, I don’t need one.”

“Uh, no, you kind of do.”

Louis releases a deep breath, shaking his head once more. Like he’s about to deliver bad news and Zayn’s stomach drops, twisting and landing somewhere at his ankles.

“It’s done, Zayn. It’s over,” Louis tells him, voice quiet. “I don’t want to do this anymore.”

“What do you—“ Zayn takes a deep breath, pinching the bridge of his nose. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t want to do this anymore.”

“Do what?”

“This,” Louis cries out, voice high and hysterical almost. “I don’t want to do this. It’s off, the entire thing. I don’t want to do this—this fake shit anymore. It’s not real and it’s over. I’m done.”

And yeah, Louis doesn’t owe him anything, but he owes him this. This is how it was supposed to be all along. Louis was going to Perrie’s wedding with him while Zayn met his friends, got them all to believe that the two of them are happy and together. Zayn upheld his end of the bargain. He met Louis’ friends. He’s spent time with them. He’s done everything that Louis asked of him and more. Zayn went above and beyond for this, because he wanted it to work, he wanted them to be convincing.

And maybe somewhere along the road Zayn didn’t want it to just be convincing as real, but he wanted it to be real. That’s his fault, his mistake, and he’ll deal with the backlash of these feelings once this is all said and over with, but not right now. Because right now Louis is trying to call this off before the agreed date and Zayn’s not going to have that.

“This is part of the deal, Louis,” Zayn says carefully, trying to keep his tone flat. “I met your friends and now you have to go to this wedding. That’s the fucking deal, Louis.”

“Yeah, well, the deals off,” Louis says, shrugging unapologetically, looking thoroughly bored with this conversation. It sends a wave of annoyance through Zayn’s body.

“What the fuck do you mean the deal is off? You can’t end this, Louis.”

“Yes, I can.”

Zayn laughs and he probably sounds hysterical, maniacal even, but he doesn’t care. “So what happened?”

“Nothing happened. I’m just done.”

“Bullshit.”

“You don’t have to believe me, I don’t care,” Louis says. “It doesn’t change anything.”

“So you’re breaking up with me?” Zayn asks, watching as Louis laughs, shaking his head. He sounds bitter and wants to ask why, wants to know what he did wrong. But Louis doesn’t look like he’s willing to give, like he’s going to do anything that Zayn wants, even something as small as be honest about what’s happening.

“Funny thing,” Louis says finally, gripping onto his door as he steps into his apartment. “There is nothing to break up, is there? It’s all fake.”

Louis closes the door before Zayn can answer, before he can do anything. Zayn stares at the door for a moment, hoping in vain that Louis will come back out, but he doesn’t, so Zayn goes home.

Zayn goes back to his apartment and hopes that he can figure out what he’s going to do. Not just about the wedding but with his life, with his feelings.

>>>>

The next week passes by slow, almost agonizingly slow, in Zayn’s opinion. Louis is still not talking to him, still not making any noise in his apartment. The only thing that hasn’t changed is the fact he leaves his wet, clean clothes in the washing machine for Zayn to empty. But that doesn’t change on Louis’ end. It changes on Zayn’s, because now he’s drying them. He’s drying Louis’ clothes like a lovesick idiot and he hates it.

But whatever, he’s allowed to be whatever he wants to be.

And what he wants to be right now is grumpy and bitter, angry that he’s in a car with Niall wearing a suit on his way to his ex-fiancées wedding without a boyfriend – fake or not – to keep him company. To be more specific, he’s angry that Louis isn’t here.

“I don’t even care that he’s not here,” Zayn says aloud, ten minutes after Niall’s asked him if he’s okay. “I really don’t.”

“Yeah, I can tell,” Niall says, thumb tapping against the steering wheel. “But I mean, if you’re not okay, then maybe we could talk about that. Just for a little bit. Maybe a minute?”

“There’s nothing to talk about.”

Niall nods. “Right. Okay. Maybe you could tell me why he’s not here?”

“He doesn’t want to be here,” Zayn says. “That’s all he said. He’s—I don’t know what’s going on with him. I asked for details and he wouldn’t give them.”

“Did you two fight?”

Zayn rolls his eyes. No, it was the exact opposite of that, actually. “No, we didn’t fight.”

“Well, I’m sure whatever happened he’ll get over it and you’ll be back to being that same cutesy couple from the bar, yeah?” Niall says, reaching over to squeeze Zayn’s knee. “He’ll come around. Every couple gets into fights.”

Zayn breathes out, resting his head against the cool glass of the window. He sort of feelings like shit, having Niall try his hardest to reassure Zayn that something that never was can be fixed, can be pieced back together. Zayn feels awful, doesn’t like knowing that he’s lying to his friend. Which sounds hypocritical, he knows, especially when he was okay lying to him before. But now, now it’s different.

Zayn likes Louis. He likes him. It was a gradual process, slowly getting to know him over the last couple weeks, and knowing that those feelings are what scared Louis away, it’s fucking awful.

It cuts through him like glass, the sharp sting of rejection following him everywhere he goes.

Zayn almost wishes the blue-eyed boy would have never showed up at his door and asked him to be his boyfriend. None of this would have happened if Louis hadn’t have done that. But that’s—that’s not what Zayn really wants.

Zayn just wants Louis.

“Cheer up, Zayn. Just trust me, alright? Nialler knows best, and what I know is that Louis will get over whatever is bothering him soon enough. Promise.”

“It wasn’t even real,” Zayn mumbles, the words pouring out of his mouth with ease, like they’ve been sitting on the tip of his tongue, waiting to come out.

“What?”

“Our relationship wasn’t real. None of it. All of it was fake.”

“What do you mean?” Niall asks, frowning. He shoots Zayn a quick look, taking his eyes off the road for a second to check and see if Zayn is being serious.

“Louis came to my apartment the day after I got the invite and asked me to be his boyfriend. But like, his fake boyfriend. He wanted to convince his friends that he had a man, that he wasn’t lying to them about having a fun life, even though he was,” Zayn explains, watching as Niall’s eyebrows furrow. “And I agreed, but only if he’d be my date for the wedding, because I didn’t want you setting me up. But then I didn’t want to go alone, so I thought, maybe if I went with Louis then you wouldn’t think I was pathetic, but neither would Perrie.”

Niall is quiet for several minutes, staring out at the road he processes what Zayn’s just told him. Zayn lets him mull it over, trying his best to be patient. “So it was fake?”

“Yeah, we were never together.”

“Huh,” Niall mumbles, frowning. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I’m positive.”

“Wow,” Niall mutters, shaking his head. “You were really convincing, like. Wow. I didn’t think you were being serious with me before, but then I spent time with you both, and—It’s just obvious.” Niall laughs, rubbing at his jaw. “So none of it was real?”

Zayn nods, unable to say anything. He listens as Niall mutters another wow under his breath before the car falls silent. Niall’s words make him wonder…make him wonder about the sincerity of the whole thing, if he wasn’t alone in his feelings.

A light bulb goes off somewhere in Zayn’s head, because that has to be it. But just as quickly as it comes, it’s gone, because if Louis had feelings for him then he wouldn’t have run off, he wouldn’t have called the whole thing off.

It was a lovely thought, though, no matter how brief.

>>>>

Zayn gets a seat close to the front of the church, on the end so that he can get up and leave if he needs to, if feelings creep up in the middle of it. Niall’s sitting next to him, arm tossed over Zayn’s shoulder as they watch Perrie and her almost husband go through the ceremony. They’re not quite at the vows yet, but maybe they are, Zayn’ can’t really hear them.

The church is done up beautifully, pink and white flowers decorating the end of the pews and in a lovely arch over Perrie and Quentin. There’s a white cloth running from the alter to the doors, straight down the aisle with pink rose petals thrown on it. Zayn recognized the little girl, knows it’s one of Perrie’s cousins that had the joy of throwing them around as she walked. Perrie’s dog walking next to her, Hatchi.

It’s absolutely nothing like the wedding they had planned together, which comes as a relief. Zayn thinks it would have been harder to watch that, harder not to put himself in the groom’s shoes. But this way is easy; he doesn’t have the same uneasy feeling he had when he first got the invite, worried about how this could have been him.

It’s not him. It never will be him, at least not anymore, and all he can feel as Perrie steps up on her toes – even in heels – to kiss Quentin is happiness, happiness that the girl he used to love is as happy as she is.

Zayn stands up and cheers with the rest of the crowd, clapping for the newlyweds as they walk down the aisle together, smiling and waving towards everyone. Niall’s whooping next to him, whistling loudly in delight, forcing a laugh out of Zayn as he watches the couple go through the front doors, the bridesmaids and groomsmen following.

“That was better than I thought it would be,” Niall says, turning towards Zayn. “I was worried for a minute when I saw the dog that it would all turn to shit.”

Zayn laughs, because yeah, he thought the same thing when he watched a five-year old walk a dog down the aisle. “But it was Perrie.”

“Yeah, it was Perrie. Surprised she didn’t have an army of dogs walk down the aisle.”

“I bet she thought about it,” Zayn jokes, bouncing on the balls of his feet. He turns back towards the exit; wanting to see how much longer it might be before his aisle is allowed out. It doesn’t look like it’ll be much longer; the momentum slowed down as some guy helps an older woman out the door. The guy turns around, grinning as he takes her purse from someone else.

It’s Louis.

Louis is here.

Zayn can’t breathe. He blinks, rubbing at his eyes and staring back at the door where Louis has just disappeared. It was him, Zayn knows it was. It had to have been. No matter how much he wants Louis here he knows that there is no way that Zayn wants him here so much that he’s imagining it all. There just—it had to have been him.

Zayn moves on autopilot after that, eyes trained on the door as he follows Niall towards the exit, listening to him talk about how he wants to slip off to find Jade, see if she still remembers him. Zayn knows what that means, but he’s not going to comment.He’s too busy looking for Louis, trying to break through the crowd that’s gathered outside the church, everyone socializing before they have to be at the reception hall.

Zayn’s beginning to think that maybe his mind did make it all up, like Louis is nothing more than a figment of his imagination - until someone taps him on his shoulder, turning him around. Zayn nearly jumps out of his skin, eyes going wide when he sees that it’s really Louis. It’s him, looking marvelous in a suit, one that fits him just right in all the right places. Zayn can’t take his eyes off him.

“Did you like the ceremony?” Louis asks, bouncing on the balls of his feet and rubbing his hands together nervously.

Zayn nods, unable to get his mouth and brain to connect.

“You know, you said that you were supposed to marry her, but if that’s her taste then—Well, I’m not really sure you were supposed to work together, not properly anyway.”

“I thought you weren’t coming,” Zayn says finally, watching as Louis shrugs.

“Yeah, me too,” Louis breathes, moving to run his fingers through his hair, stopping, probably remembering the hair gel. “But I made you a promise, so.” He shrugs once more, like that’s answer enough.

It’s not. It’s not at fucking all. Zayn doesn’t want Louis here out of obligation just so he can disappear again.

“So you came tonight and then you’ll go, yeah?”

Louis bites down on his lip, turning his gaze away from Zayn. He looks around a bit and Zayn watches, impatient and scared. Impatient because he wants an answer, scared because he doesn’t know what Louis is going to tell him, if it’ll be that bad, the kind of bad that will settle into Zayn’s bones, making it harder for him to get over Louis.

“I don't know,” Louis finally says, turning back to look at Zayn. “I guess it just depends on if you want me gone or not.”

Zayn shakes his head. “No. Fuck, that’s the last thing I want.”

“Then I guess that’s that,” Louis says.

“What does that mean?” Zayn asks and this time it’s his turn to bite down on his lip, watching Louis carefully. “Is like—“

“You know, this is a wedding, don’t you think we should be a bit more loving?” Louis asks, taking a step closer to Zayn. “Shouldn’t you be throwing yourself on me because you can’t control the love and happy emotions coursing through your veins? Isn’t that how it should go? I feel like I’m being robbed here.”

“Is this pretend?” Zayn asks, because he has to know, even if he can’t stop his traitorous hands from reaching out and cupping Louis’ jaw, thumb stroking against his cheek.

Louis’ response is a grin, right before he takes a tiny step forward and presses his lips against Zayn’s.

There is a lot they need to discuss, a lot that they need to work through and check to make sure that they’re both on the same page about, but that can come later, when Louis isn’t pulling him closer by his lapels, tongue flicking out against Zayn’s lips.

Right now all Zayn cares about is this. The rest will come later.

>>>>>>>>

Zayn wakes with a start, feeling something cold press against his calves. His eyes snap open, blinking rapidly as he tries to adjust to the dark. There’s a dip in the bed next to him, a heavy weight trying to scoot closer to him.

“Louis?” Zayn calls out, rolling his eyes.

“I didn’t mean to wake you,” Louis mumbles, gripping at Zayn’s arm. “Sorry.”

“What are you doing here?”

“I was on the phone with Haz, out on the fire escape, so I figured I’d come down and see what you were doing. I didn’t think you’d be sleeping,” Louis mutters quietly, staring up at Zayn.

“Why didn’t you use your key?” Zayn asks, leaning back down. He checks his alarm, noticing that it’s just a bit after ten in the morning. He makes a note to thank Harry for the curtains, because he most definitely thought it was in the middle of the night.

Louis laughs, scooting closer to Zayn. “Now why would I do that?”

“Because that’s what normal people do.”

“If I was normal then I wouldn’t be in your life, would I?”

And that much is true. Normal people don’t knock on a stranger’s door and ask them to be their boyfriend; normal people don’t start fake relationships. Nothing about Louis is normal. Nothing about their time together has been normal. But that’s why Zayn likes being with Louis so much, why he likes being able to call Louis his real boyfriend, because nothing is ever predictable.

And now, through sheer luck, they both have the exciting lives that they wished for when this all started.

“Yeah, I guess not,” Zayn replies.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! You can find me on [tumblr](http://zaynlilo.tumblr.com), along with a [rebloggable post](http://zaynlilo.tumblr.com/post/126310465497/keep-you-like-an-oath-zayn-doesnt-recognize-the) for the fic!


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